


Noble Blood

by Iamtigerlily



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ferdinand dies but don't worry he gets better, M/M, Oh Boy it's Vampire Time my Guys, Other tags to be added boy I don't know how to do this, Set during the war, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26142724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamtigerlily/pseuds/Iamtigerlily
Summary: Ferdinand is lethally injured in battle, and Hubert resorts to desperate measures to save the other man’s life.In some ways it works, and in others it does not.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 20
Kudos: 61





	1. With Bated Breath

Hubert had found himself in a rather troubling situation.

The Minister of the Imperial Household was not a stranger to being the most knowledgeable on any given subject in a room (particularly when it pertained to the more unsavory aspects of Fódlan), but rarely had he found himself in a situation where he had absolutely no clue how to explain what he knew.

He still had some time to piece it together, most likely. It could be minutes or days before Ferdinand woke up, if he deigned to at all. While Hubert would like nothing more in this moment than to be optimistic, the pragmatist in him was, as ever, unwilling to go down without a fight.

Attempting to calm his thoughts, Hubert once more let his gaze drift over to the unmoving form of Ferdinand von Aegir settled carefully onto the small bed that had been moved into the room to accommodate him. ‘Form’ was a rather vague term, yes, but it was better than referring to it as his body, as that could very easily be extrapolated to mean his corpse. Such distinctions were usually beneath Hubert’s worry, but in this particular instance he felt it rather important to maintain a line between the two.

The faint pulse that had flickered through Ferdinand’s veins for the past few days as he slept (there seemed no better word for it) was of at least some comfort to Hubert. Despite everything else, it let him know this gambit had some chance of working, as well as removing one point on the list of new health concerns he had to worry about for the Prime Minister. As for the others, he had done his best to prepare based on what limited knowledge he had of Ferdinand’s condition. While there had been records in the Agarthan base he’d destroyed to gain the ‘medicine’ Ferdinand had consumed, Hubert was not so callous as to continue their experiments on human subjects to find out more. There had never been any intentions to change that approach, but well...desperate times had called for desperate measures.

Following the observations in the Agarthans’ research notes, Hubert had sequestered Ferdinand away in one of his own offices, far from where an accidental sunbeam could stray through open curtains and onto the Prime Minister. While it was no doubt less comfortable than the Prime Minister’s own quarters (due in no small part to the fact that no one was truly meant to reside here), the sweeping view of Enbarr that Ferdinand so often lauded was nothing but a liability at the moment. And while he suspected this was more a matter of taste to the Agarthans than any legitimate danger, Hubert had also made sure to remove any imagery of the Goddess from the space. Not that there was much in the first place—beyond what he hadn’t cared to strip from the already lackluster walls or had brought in for research at one point or another. There were plenty of other matters that would have to be addressed, but that, at least, covered the immediate concerns.

Of course, there was only the one bed in the room. It had been hard enough to get one moved in here without rousing an excessive amount of suspicion and concern—two would have been out of the question. Besides, it was hardly as if Hubert had slept since stepping foot in here three days ago. What use would a bed have been for him anyway? No doubt Ferdinand would scold him for this upon waking up (if he woke up, if), but frankly, he’d had more important things to do than rest his eyes.

Ferdinand’s condition required constant monitoring, for one. There was no telling when something might change for the worse (and Hubert liked to believe he would know what to do if that happened, even if there was little evidence to prove as much) or when he might regain consciousness. It wouldn’t do to have Ferdinand awake with no one there to immediately explain the circumstances to him.

Furthermore, there was the issue of the other members of the Black Eagle Strike Force.

While their former classmates knew of his injury, there was no one yet—besides Edelgard herself—who knew the full extent of Ferdinand’s...condition. The only information they had been given was that the Prime Minister had been struck by a lethal Dark Magic—not completely untrue—and that the methods of regular healers would not be enough to restore him. Should this whole process fail, Hubert could simply claim that Ferdinand had passed from his injuries. It would not be a lie, technically. 

Of course, he had tried to explain to all of them that this treatment was especially precarious, and he could not risk having any visitors disturb him in his work. That had worked about as well as any other time he’d told them he was too busy to leave his office, and several of them had tried to coerce their way in anyways. So far he had been able to convince them to leave with a few harsh words whispered past the crack in the door, but he could sense their frustration and desperation growing each time he turned them away. Dorothea had leaned down to whisper something to Bernadetta the last time they’d walked away, and in the moment Hubert had vaguely recalled her growing skills with lockpicks. If he were to fall asleep, there was no way to be sure some of them wouldn’t just force their way in. 

He couldn’t exactly blame them. With every second that ticked on and Ferdinand remained asleep, Hubert could feel the same sort of fear growing within himself, as well. 

With nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat to accompany him now, the complaints of his companions, voiced or otherwise, was all his mind could settle upon to listen to.

If these truly were Ferdinand’s final moments, they would most certainly declaim him as selfish for claiming them all to himself. If his death was to be so prolonged, then they should have had the time to say their goodbyes to him, to hear his final words should he wake long enough to utter them. They weren’t in the wrong for these thoughts, really. But regardless of whether or not Ferdinand woke from his current state, Hubert had been the only one present when the Prime Minister spoke his last words as a living man. At this point, there was nothing that could be done to change that. 

\---

_Hubert heard Ferdinand fall off his horse more than he saw it._

_He was hardly unused to the clash of metal on a battlefield. Logically speaking, the wyvern knight’s axe colliding with Ferdinand’s breastplate should have blended in with every other noise of war. They each had their own duties to attend to, and Hubert was not Ferdinand’s keeper._

_But the other man’s cry had reached his ears nonetheless, and Hubert had just finished off an approaching soldier with Miasma when he turned his head to see the other general rolling in the dirt. It was not common to see Ferdinand fall from his steed, but it was not enough of an anomaly to warrant any immediate concern. It had happened many times before, as much as the Prime Minister might insist otherwise. He still had a solid grip on his lance, and a smooth recovery from the fall paired with a strong thrust of his weapon saw the offending wyvern rider felled before they could retreat into the air._

_Ferdinand had glanced around quickly to confirm there were no more immediate attackers, stiffening when he caught sight of Hubert staring at him from across the clearing. Hubert probably should have been the one embarrassed at being caught in the act, but he could see Ferdinand laugh and shrug his shoulders as if he was apologizing for being caught sneaking an extra spoon of sugar into his tea. Hubert had merely raised his eyebrows, ignoring the temptation to smile at the man and how casually he was treating this entire exchange._

_The moment was nice, perhaps, but they were still in the middle of a fight, and frankly had more important things to focus their attention on. Preparing to do another scan of the surrounding forests, Hubert let his eyes drift towards Ferdinand for another second longer. He was easing up to his steed to mount her again, when something gave Hubert pause as he watched. He caught Ferdinand’s attention once more, two fingers coming up to tap at his own chest. Hubert appreciated the way the other general’s brows furrowed momentarily more than he possibly should have. But it took only a moment for Ferdinand to grasp his meaning, mainly that the axe blow and resulting fall had knocked his breastplate almost completely off, leaving it hanging loosely from his right shoulder. Gauntleted hands went to fumble with the straps, and Hubert let another snort of air push its way out of his nostrils._

_It_ was _a nice moment, until he heard the snap of a branch in the trees behind him._

Idiotic.

_It had taken less than a second for Hubert to spin around, Dark Spikes erupting from the ground between him and the trees. A pained cry confirmed he’d hit his target._

Arrogant.

_A few broad steps forward found the enemy soldier, her eyes wide even as the light quickly faded from them. The spike of dark energy piercing through her stomach most likely had something to do with that. As she went limp, the bow in her hand thudded onto the ground. Alone. Had she not even thought to draw her arrows before approaching him? A weak assassination attempt, if he’d ever seen one. Unless—_

Irresponsible.

_He’d warped rather than take the extra thirty seconds to sprint and confirm his fears. It took less than a second to understand what had happened. While he’d been standing there, back to the forest of opposing soldiers in favor of mooning at and distracting Ferdinand like some sort of lovesick school boy, they had taken advantage of both the literal and mental gap in Prime Minister von Aegir’s armor._

_The missing arrow was easy enough to find, lodged as it was directly in Ferdinand’s heart._

_He was already on his knees when Hubert materialized, hands clutching at the leg of his mare in an attempt to stabilize himself. The beast leaned down to sniff at him curiously, and Hubert watched incredulously as Ferdinand reached one of his hands up weakly to pet at her nose, whispering what the mage could only assume were words of comfort before he slumped fully onto his side._

_It was enough to spur Hubert into action, though he was already cursing himself for letting himself be so stunned not moments after his first lapse in attention had caused this in the first place. He lurched forward onto the ground next to Ferdinand, his hands instantly going to his bag to empty out all of its contents onto the dirt. Hubert had always been a very methodical man, and as such always knew specifically how many vulneries and concoctions he had on his person at any given point. He knew for a fact his supply had run out precisely 23 minutes ago. Yet he still had to check._

_There were no healers anywhere near them. Ferdinand himself had insisted the two of them would be fine protecting one another’s back. Had nearly demanded that Linhardt and Dorothea accompany others. Had all but performed an opera on his trust in Hubert before Edelgard had agreed with a stern look just to quiet him. Hubert should have protested more._

_With the blood seeping from Ferdinand’s wound, there was no way Hubert could risk moving him to a safer place or closer to their allies. And yet, without any treatment, he was surely going to die. Ferdinand was going to die._

_Hubert did not realize his hands had stilled in their search until one of Ferdinand’s closed over them. Pale green eyes numbly traveled towards amber ones, and Hubert briefly wondered if he had the courage to watch the light fade from them. He had watched countless others die before, relished in it on occasions—but they were not Ferdinand._

_“H-Hubert.”_

_“...If you try to pet me the same way you did your horse, I may just put an end to your misery myself.”_

_Ferdinand almost laughed at that, but seemed to quickly discover that was more pain than it was worth. Hubert cursed himself internally for attempting humor at a time like this. What if Ferdinand passed before he had the chance to say anything else?_

_“It’s not good, is it? I have r-rarely seen you so worried.”_

_Hubert was silent for a moment longer, but a weak squeeze on his hand from Ferdinand spurred him to speak. How pathetic, to need encouragement from a dying man._

_“If you have anything you...wish to say, I would recommend you do so now.”_

_Though he seemed to have suspected as much, there was no hiding how Ferdinand’s shoulders slumped in resignation. Hubert could see tears pricking at the corners of the other man’s eyes, and he suddenly felt ashamed that he was the only one here to witness this. Ferdinand should have someone else here. Someone who hadn’t caused his death in the first place._

_“I...I know I do not have l-long... to think on it. But if you could give m-me... just a moment.” Ferdinand gave him another sheepish grin, far too similar to the one when he’d been caught off his horse. Hubert simply nodded and averted his eyes, his gaze lazily returning to the emptied contents of his bag as he questioned how he could have so severely miscalculated his needs._

_It was ridiculous to have this many poisons on an active battlefield. Many of them were too slow-acting for anything that immediate war called for and could have easily been swapped for another healing agent. Some of these he hadn’t even discerned the proper use for, and yet he’d somehow still thought them more important. Had thought himself too capable to need excessive healing, opting instead to bring around these damn experimental draughts instead. All of them utterly useless now, of course. Unless—_

_Hubert’s mind ground to a stop, his breath catching in his throat as he quickly tried to remember if he’d brought_ that _particular potion with him. The Agarthans’ notes had been very clear on its ability to bring experiments back from a near-dead state, or something similar to that—he had only their notes to go off of. There was nothing to prove if it was as effective as they said or whether the other...mentioned effects were true as well. Hubert was not usually one to believe in an experiment unless he could see the results for himself, but what other option was there now? Whatever happened could hardly be worse than Ferdinand dying. If it worked at all._

_His hands left Ferdinand’s as he turned to frantically start rooting through the scattered contents of his bag. Of course, he had known exactly where this specific potion had been stored. And then he had decided to throw all of his belongings onto the ground like some sort of animal. He had the vague feeling Ferdinand was trying to say something to him, but everything had been reduced to a loud buzzing as he rapidly picked up each vial to confirm their contents before throwing the incorrect ones to the side. It was most likely mere seconds, but it felt like hours before Hubert had found what he was looking for, then triple checked it to make sure he hadn’t made any mistake. He uncorked the vial with his teeth, eyes flying to Ferdinand._

_The other man was weakly gripping onto the edge of Hubert’s sleeve, lips moving slightly but not yet forming words. Or perhaps he had already said them. They did not have long._

_“I’m sorry Ferdinand. I don’t—I don’t have time to listen.”_

_He wished he could say he’d been gentle, but they didn’t seem to have the luxury at the moment. Hubert roughly forced the other man’s mouth open and tilted the vial fully back until all its contents had been drained. Ferdinand didn’t even have the energy to choke on it as it went down._

_And then his eyes drifted shut, and General von Aegir was still. Had Hubert’s hands not already been wrapped around the other’s neck, he would have considered his rushed experiment a complete failure. But despite everything else, he could still feel the almost imperceptible heartbeat under Ferdinand’s skin for several minutes after it had cooled._

_Hubert kept one hand on Ferdinand’s pulse as the other sent up a flare requesting rescue._

\---

It was almost funny. Hubert had spent days on end now waiting for the slightest sign of movement from Ferdinand, and when it actually happened, he nearly missed it. His eyes had moved away from the other man’s form for only a few moments (at least, he was fairly certain that was the case, but even the infamous Shadow of the Emperor could sometimes be affected by a lack of sleep and stress), and when his gaze had lazily drifted back towards the bed, it took him longer than he would have liked to admit to register that Ferdinand was now sitting up.

Three days of thinking through how this moment might best be handled, and every plan Hubert possessed had seen fit to completely flee his mind. He quickly tried to run through a mental checklist of what he’d meant to observe. First off, Ferdinand had the strength to sit himself up, so there clearly hadn’t been any obscene loss of strength. Good. Perhaps Ferdinand was still gathering his bearings, but he also had yet to launch himself at Hubert in any sort of starved frenzy—so the violent awakenings had perhaps been a bit dramatized by the Agarthans, then. The Prime Minister was glancing around the room quickly, though it was hard for Hubert to tell if it was out of anxiety or if he was simply assessing the situation. Nothing immediately horrendous or out of character to deal with off the bat, then. Wonderful.

Except for one matter, which he really should have begun to worry about halfway through his previous mental checklist. It had been almost a full minute now, and Ferdinand von Aegir had yet to say a single word. Perhaps better to revise his statement on possible changes of character.

Hubert cleared his throat, and that seemed to be sufficient enough to redirect Ferdinand’s attention back towards him, the red-haired man’s brows furrowing together in an all too familiar way that indicated a specific sort of frustration reserved for Hubert alone.

Well then, where to begin?

“How are you feeling, Ferdinand?”

Normally, this would be where the tense silence between the two was broken as Ferdinand sought fit to voice every complaint that had no doubt been stewing in his unconscious mind for the past few days. And indeed, Ferdinand seemed intent on doing just that, if not for the coughing fit that overtook him the moment he actually opened his mouth.

Hubert sprung to his feet as Ferdinand doubled over, one hand going to his throat while the other rose to try and wave Hubert away. As if he wasn’t heaving like someone about to suffocate. All Hubert could do was roll his eyes and unclip the waterskin he had been keeping at his belt in anticipation of this very moment. The liquid inside wasn’t water—but if Ferdinand couldn’t see that, then he didn’t need to worry about it just yet. While Hubert hardly approved of their uses for it, he could at least grant to the Agarthans that their methods for blood preservation were second to none in Fódlan.

He all but shoved the waterskin into the other man’s hands, who immediately leapt upon its spout, both hands working to tilt all of its contents down his throat. Hubert quickly returned to his chair and tried not to focus too hard on the trickle of red that had missed Ferdinand’s lips and carved a traitorous path down his chin.

With the waterskin empty and Ferdinand seemingly sated, the Prime Minister straightened up and turned once more towards Hubert, a somewhat embarrassed grin spread across his lips. He didn’t smile wide enough to show his teeth, and Hubert had to resist the urge to stare at them longer to determine if there had been any changes there. Instead, he dragged his gaze back up to meet Ferdinand’s. Hard to say if it was a trick of the light or a side effect he should be noting, but the man’s normal amber had seemed to have just faded from something more akin to crimson.

“Better now that I’ve had something to drink, I would say.”

“Indeed.” He didn’t sound like someone who had been shot in the heart just days earlier, so that had to have been a good sign.

“Not that I am entirely complaining, Hubert. But...I would have expected to wake up in the medical bay, perhaps with a beautiful nurse attending to me. What is it we are doing...here, exactly?”

“Well. This is one of my offices. Your injuries required a...special treatment, and I happened to be the only one with the knowledge to manage it. Apologies that I am not the caring matron you imagined.”

Ferdinand laughed and accepted that easily enough, nodding his head and taking the time to actually observe himself for the first time since waking up. Of course he looked flawless, despite having spent nearly half a week in bed. It was impossible to say if that was on account of his new state of being, or just one of the many talents Ferdinand von Aegir had always possessed. Most of it seemed to pass whatever check he had initiated, though his hands did pause as he discovered the trickle of blood on his lips, his thumb swiping it off. He stared in confusion for a moment, and from the sudden glint of teeth (ah, so they had sharpened after all) worrying at his mouth, Hubert could only guess he was testing for some sort of split lip. A moment passed though, and Ferdinand shrugged, tongue darting out to lick the offending blood off almost as an afterthought before he refocused on his fellow Minister.

“So?”

Hubert kept his stare level, eyebrows raising only minimally. “So?”

“So, what are these terrible injuries, Hubert? Aside from an unfortunately dry throat, I see no sign of an affliction. Honestly, this is the most energetic I’ve ever felt after waking up in a sick bed.” He paused for a moment, lips pursing together. “Truth be told, I do not recall getting hurt at all. There are...vague memories of being knocked from my horse, but not much beyond that.”

Oh. So he would have to explain that far back, then. That made things harder, and it required Hubert to think back on memories he would rather not recall. Even if everything about Ferdinand as he was now would almost certainly never allow him to forget.

The Prime Minister opened his mouth to continue his line of questioning, but paused, his head tilting to the side slightly as if listening for something.

“Hubert, are you nervous?”

Hubert would be lying if he said his breath didn’t catch in the back of his throat. But he was not the Imperial Spymaster for nothing. Regulating emotions and physical reactions was a task he had done countless times before, and it had been foolish of him to let anything slip simply because Ferdinand von Aegir was the other party. As if he hadn’t caused enough issues already by letting Ferdinand distract him. He wasn’t sure what had given him away, but a quick clench of his fists and purposefully even breaths was enough to slow his breathing and heart rate back to normal levels.

“My apologies, I was simply unprepared for how energetic you would be upon waking up. Perhaps I thought your injuries might humble you somewhat, but, as always, I have underestimated the ego of the ever esteemed von Aegir.”

Ferdinand pouted at him, but brought his fingers to his lips to mime locking them shut, then gestured at Hubert for him to continue speaking. Despite the circumstances, Hubert couldn’t help but feel the corner of his lip tug upwards.

“From what I can tell, your injuries have mostly healed. As I said, they were of a...peculiar nature. That being said, there are some...consequences. That you would do well to be informed of.”

Oh dear Goddess. This was going to be so much harder than he could have ever dreamt of.

Ferdinand’s demeanor instantly shifted, the other man’s face dropping into a somber expression as he leaned forward intently. “The battle, of course. What of its results? Saints, Hubert, how long have I been out?” He rose from the bed, no doubt searching for clothes to wear beyond the simple shirt and breeches he currently wore. Hubert did not have the wherewithal to stop him.

He should have had someone else here for this conversation. Anyone else. Consideration of another’s feelings had never been and never would be one of Hubert’s strengths. Yet somehow he’d believed himself capable of informing another man of how his life was about to be completely turned on its head. And he’d had the gall to accuse Ferdinand of being overconfident.

Ferdinand threw up his hands in exasperation, not finding whatever clothes he’d seemed to be looking for (Goddess, he hadn’t even thought to prepare the man _clothing._ It should not have taken him until this moment to realize the irrationality of this plan), instead settling for turning back to stare at Hubert.

“Well? What are these consequences? Did we—did we lose anyone? Hubert?”

There were few moments in his life where Hubert would describe himself as having frozen completely. Of course, the earliest had been when he’d first learned of Edelgard’s disappearance all those years ago. There had been moments here and there, in later years, when new raids on Agarthan bases had revealed horrors even Hubert and his darkened mind had never thought conjured up. 

And he’d inflicted one of those very things on Ferdinand. A man who had trusted him with his life, and he’d surely taken that trust and spat on it, with what he’d done. A man who—

_“Hubert.”_

Ferdinand had grown closer without him realizing, now just a foot away and staring at him in clear concern with his large amber eyes.

“Whatever it is, I can handle it. We are at war, Hubert. I am more than prepared to hear any consequences, even if they may hurt me. But I can not do anything if you do not tell me anything.” His voice was low and evenly measured, trying to calm even as Hubert could clearly see his brain whirring trying to figure out just what could set Hubert so off kilter. How could he possibly treat Hubert like was the one who needed comforting in this scenario?

“Ferdinand. I...truly mean this. This is not an answer you will want to hear.”

This was not the right response. Ferdinand threw his hands up and retreated backwards once more, the irritation on his face clear. “You seem to forget, but I am the Prime Minister, and I can damn well decide myself what I should and should not like to hear. _Tell me what happened, Hubert._ ”

Hubert felt the words claw their way out of his throat more so than any conscious decision to say them. Had he been able to clutch at his neck to keep them contained, he might just have. But his answer forced its way between them before Hubert could even register the sound of his own voice.

“You didn’t survive, Ferdinand.”

The silence between them was deafening, Hubert’s pale green eyes widened as he tried to take in Ferdinand’s reaction. He was almost certain anyone in the room would have been able to hear his heart now with the way it pounded in his ears.

He could not tell if it had been seconds or an hour when the tension one-sidedly broke, Ferdinand doubling over with laughter and bringing both his hands to drag down his face. Hubert stared at him in mute silence, uncertain if he needed to quickly consider how one responded to a state of hysteria. After a moment, Ferdinand straightened up again, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

“Admittedly, I didn’t think cheating death itself was one of my talents, but thank you for letting me know I should add it to the list.”

“Ferdinand—”

“I know I have told you that you could stand to employ some more humor, but I think that was a tad morose, even for you.”

“Ferdinand, please—”

“I must commend you on your acting, though. I’m sure even Dorothea would be impressed with a stunt like that. After she was done being furious, of course.”

“ _Ferdinand._ ”

The desperation in his voice was enough to give the other man pause, and Ferdinand frowned as he brought in his focus once more.

“It needs...some work, but come now, it was not all _that_ awful. There is no need to be so upset that your joke did not land as expected.”

Again, assuming _Hubert_ was the one who’s feelings needed tending to right now.

There was no simple way to do this, was there?

“Ferdinand. You have not taken in a single breath since you woke up. Had you truly not noticed?”

Of course he hadn’t, with how adamantly he’d been leading the conversation. This time, Ferdinand’s frown was expected.

“You are carrying this on a little too far, my friend. I have been speaking all this time—of course I have—”

And then, the pause, as Ferdinand’s hand fluttered towards his chest—which had still yet to actually intake anything. His features pinched together in concentration, then, finally, his chest rose and fell. Stopped. Rose and fell once more. Stopped.

It did not move again, and Hubert could only watch in silence as the seconds trickled into minutes, and Ferdinand no doubt waited for some burning sensation in his lungs to demand he stop this foolish game. Of course it didn’t come. It never would again.

The realization didn’t seem to come all at once, and Hubert felt somewhat ashamed for watching so intently as the expressions on the Prime Minister’s face ever so slowly shifted from one to the next. Irritation, to determination, to confusion, and then finally what Hubert had dreaded the most: Fear.

Ferdinand’s voice was barely a whisper as his eyes lifted away from his unmoving chest towards the other man in the room, equally as still.

“Hubert, what has happened to me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Boy, this is my first ever attempt at a multiple-chaptered fic, so let's see how this goes!
> 
> Big big thanks to [Adaire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlaeFatorum/pseuds/Adaire) for betaing this for me and always being willing to talk about vampire Ferdinand at 2 in the morning.
> 
> Also shout out to my Spotify playlist for throwing on My Immortal just as I got to the line of Hubert telling Ferdinand he died.
> 
> You can also find me over on twitter at @cobaltcircuit, though most of the Ferdibert is sequestered to my likes on account of me having to maintain a semblance of semi-professionalism.


	2. Diagnosis

“Ferdinand, I think you should sit down.”

It was not an answer to Ferdinand’s question, but Hubert was uncertain if he could answer it without some sort of...preamble. What had happened to Ferdinand, indeed? Hubert certainly knew the gist of it, but not nearly as many specifics as he would have preferred. 

His remark earned him a wide-eyed stare from the other man, followed shortly by a sharp and bitter laugh. It was not the sort of sound he heard often from the Prime Minister. It had certainly been directed at him before, though not since they’d figured out that their opposing views on—well, everything, really—could be used for a greater good instead of personal attacks against one another. It sounded off-putting coming from the man Ferdinand had grown into since.

“Are you afraid I am going to _faint_ , Hubert? It hardly seems like that would be an issue, now.”

Ferdinand’s voice was also pitched far higher than usual, which most likely indicated some panic and hysteria. The first step would be to calm all that down, then. Somehow. Hubert grimaced and gestured at the other chair in the room, placed across from his own.

“No, but I understand that’s what one is supposed to say in these situations. I believe it helps to ‘ground oneself.’”

The words sounded callous even to him, but the best course of action here would be to retain a confident front. Even if his heart must have been beating loud enough to wake half the palace, Saints knew nothing helpful would happen here if they were to both lose their composure. It was not something he was particularly proud of, but Ferdinand’s growing panic helped him compose himself somewhat.

Ferdinand still looked bewildered, but when Hubert did not rescind his arm, he eventually acquiesced and took a careful seat across from him. One of Ferdinand’s hands firmly grasped the armrest of the chair, and Hubert pointedly ignored the slight groan of complaint he heard coming from the wood. Increased strength had been mentioned often enough in the Agarthans’ records that he believed it true, but it was another matter to see it personally. Ah, but Ferdinand was looking at him expectantly now, which meant Hubert had to actually think of how one would even begin to explain this mess.

“First of all, I should apologize for my previous dramatics. I let my emotions get the better of me, and I believe some...misunderstandings have occurred as a result.”

“Are you referring to the part where you told me I am dead, or the part where you informed me I no longer need to _breathe_?”

The strain in his voice suggested a hint of anger, which was certainly not unreasonable. Hubert would no doubt be irate, too, if someone offered him such a shoddy explanation of his own health.

“The former, mostly. Obviously, you are here speaking with me, so you are not dead. The latter is true for the foreseeable future.”

“Why say it, then? You are not an emotional man, Hubert. You would not make such a statement without reason.”

Hubert frowned slightly at that, though he quickly schooled his face into neutrality again. He would normally take such a comment as a compliment or testament to his skills, but it left a somewhat bitter feeling in him just now. He should have put on more coffee earlier, before Ferdinand woke up. The caffeine was desperately needed, and pauses for sips would have been perfect for covering any momentary slips in expression.

“After you fell from your horse, you took a lethal hit to your heart. It was not something any standard healing methods would have been able to fix.”

Ferdinand’s free hand traveled over to his heart, eyebrows furrowing together as he no doubt tried to remember the moment. Honestly, Hubert wished he wouldn’t. It had been unpleasant enough to watch—he couldn’t imagine actually experiencing it was any better. Seemingly unable to gather his memories for the moment, the Prime Minister shook his head in frustration and focused back on the conversation.

“So then what ‘non-standard’ method did you use? How am I still...here?”

Hubert took a deep breath. There was no reason he couldn’t do this. As long as he stuck to pure facts and avoided any melodramatic statements like earlier, this would be an easy explanation.

Goddess. And Ferdinand said he didn’t tell enough jokes.

“I often carry around a number of...experimental medicines and poisons on my person. As it so happened, one of them was capable of bringing back an injured person from the brink of death. With some side effects, of course.”

“Side effects.”

Ferdinand echoed him vacantly, no doubt already starting to wonder what other consequences there were to this miracle treatment. Best to cut that off quickly before his imagination got out of hand.

“Yes. The ability to live without air for one, as you’ve noticed. You mentioned feeling particularly energetic, which I believe can be accredited to this as well. Faster healing and increased strength overall.”

These could all be seen as positives, but Hubert hesitated to label them as such out loud. He didn’t think Ferdinand would appreciate being told he should be thankful for this. And of course, there were still the more unsavory aspects to discuss.

“On the more detrimental side, you will most likely have to adjust your diet and sleeping schedule.”

The understatement of the millenium, but Hubert figured it gave them a solid starting point.

Ferdinand had leaned over in his chair so that his fingers could rub into his temples while his elbow still sat on the armrest, and Hubert did his best to not stare too overtly at his face as he did so. Charismatic as he was, Ferdinand had always been the sort to wear his emotions on his sleeve, a trait that Hubert was vastly thankful for right now. While Hubert knew enough about subtlety to guess at a person’s feelings, he’d rather not rely on speculation at this moment. As matters currently stood, the Prime Minister was blatantly annoyed with him.

“Hubert von Vestra. Much as I know you like to think otherwise, I am not an imbecile, nor am I a child. I would have hoped I had earned enough respect from you by now that you would not...conceal things from me, particularly regarding my own wellbeing. I am sure you are not outright lying to me—that is not a compliment—only because it is easier to tell half-truths than to make something up from scratch. Before I even _begin_ on the parts of this story that clearly make no sense, why don’t you elaborate on those latter side effects you so kindly glossed over. Pray tell, how _exactly_ will my diet and sleeping schedule be changing?”

Ferdinand was staring directly at him now, his amber eyes fixated upon Hubert’s own. It was not a stare Hubert was unfamiliar with, given how frequently they challenged one another in council meetings. But this may have been the first time Hubert ever averted his gaze, bringing up one gloved hand in a feigned cough to try and cover his hesitance. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ferdinand falter, reacting in kind to the unexpectedly easy victory. Best to just get this done with, then. Before either of them lost their nerve.

“As I understand it, the remedy brings with it an extreme sensitivity to sunlight. I have not been able to confirm this, but I would strongly recommend against testing it. Exposure to the sun could be potentially lethal. As for the latter part, there are more records on this, but you will have to lean more into the, ah, carnivorous side of your diet. In order to sustain yourself you will have to consume regular amounts of blood. My understanding is it can be from any source.”

If Ferdinand had looked doubtful before, he was now completely incredulous. Hubert tried to discern what he was thinking from his face, but not there was not much there except for confusion. After a few more beats of silence, he spoke, the words coming out slowly as if he was puzzling them out as he said them. Perhaps he was.

“Hubert. Am I a vampire?”

Hubert swore under his breath. This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid. Too many implications contained in that single word, even if it _was_ the best one available for Ferdinand’s condition.

“If that is what you wish to call it. But I think it would be more accurate to say you are what vampires are...based on.”

“You are going to argue _semantics_ with me right now?”

“I, what—no, that was not the point. Simply that you might make some incorrect assumptions based on myth rather than fact.”

“Ah, yes, ‘simply.’ Of course. Foolish of me to not think more _logically_ about all this.”

“Ferdinand, would you please—”

“I will not, no. In fact, _Hubert_ , I would like _you_ to quiet that oh-so-clever mouth of yours. Do you think that is something you can manage? A few moments for me to gather my thoughts?”

Hubert opened his mouth to protest, but a quick glare from Ferdinand convinced him to do otherwise. He sank back into his chair, clasping both his hands together in his lap and doing everything within his power not to stare at Ferdinand. He’d been doing almost nothing _but_ that for the past three days—surely it should not be so hard to take a small break and allow Ferdinand some measure of emotional privacy. Even so, it took most of his willpower to drag his eyes up to the ceiling and keep them there. 

Hubert was not uncomfortable with silence—really, it was his preferred state of existence—but the absolute stillness of Ferdinand was...unsettling. With his own eyes turned upwards and no familiar breath to fill the space between them, he could almost think himself completely alone. Hubert quickly decided these thoughts could never be voiced aloud to Ferdinand.

The other man’s voice eventually broke the quiet, though it was so soft Hubert almost wondered if he had been meant to hear it.

“Am I damned?”

Hubert refocused his gaze on Ferdinand immediately, his lips pressing into a thin line. He wasn’t a religious man, for obvious reasons, and while everyone in their Strike Force certainly agreed that the Church of Seiros was corrupt, he knew that several of them still held some faith in the Goddess as a concept. He hadn’t believed Ferdinand to be one of them, though he supposed he had seen him in the palace’s chapel on rare occasions. In any other situation, he would no doubt ask why such a judgement mattered in the first place, but perhaps now was not the best time for him to prod at whatever semblance of religion Ferdinand might believe in.

“...In what way?”

Ferdinand laughed weakly, but there was no malice in it this time, thankfully. These sudden mood swings were admittedly more than Hubert usually had the patience to put up with, but the circumstances all but demanded he make an exception this once.

“I suppose you wouldn’t understand or care, would you? I do not expect you to have the answer to this. I just—I would like to know if my soul is damned. If after everything I— _we_ have done and will continue to do, if I am cursed in the eyes of whatever deities may exist to judge us.”

Even though Hubert might not have put much stock in the Goddess himself, he was relieved to find this was a question he could answer with ease.

“You are correct, that I have never cared much about the ‘purity’ of my soul, if it even exists.” 

Not the best start, admittedly. But he pressed onwards anyways, keeping his gaze level with that of the man across from him.

“...That being said. Ferdinand, I can say with certainty that any goddess who would condemn you for simply living is not one whose judgement should concern you. Your continued presence here is worth far more than any possible consequence in this life or the next.”

The shock was palpable on Ferdinand’s face, and for a brief second Hubert worried he had been too candid—but he was quickly comforted by the genuine, if somewhat uneasy, smile that spread across the other man’s lips. If only to further soothe Ferdinand, Hubert let his own mouth tug upwards slightly in response.

“That sounds dangerously close to a compliment, Hubert. Should I be fetching ink and paper?”

“If you would like. Though I assume you have more pressing questions.”

“I do.”

“Ah, but before you begin. If it does...comfort you in any way, on the topic of the Goddess. I would remind you that you have already spoken of the Saints and, as of yet, have not burst into flame. I believe you would find the same results should you choose to vocalize any other religious figures. So that can be safely categorized into ‘myth,’ I believe.”

“...Right. So I have. Goddess, perhaps that was overly philosophical of me.”

Hubert graciously decided to not call out the brief hesitation in Ferdinand’s voice before he committed to speaking of the deity.

“Onto the more pressing questions, then. I would like to understand more of what you said about this merely being the ‘basis’ of vampires, but ultimately I think it best to start with what I imagine will be...simpler answers.”

As simple as any of this could be—which was to say, not at all. But he knew better than to tease Ferdinand just now.

“If that is what you wish.”

“ _Am_ I dead? Truthfully.”

“As far as I am concerned? No. You are here and speaking with me, and based on my experience with corpses—”

“—Which is troublingly excessive, I might add.”

“—Based on my experience with corpses and the dead,” Hubert repeated, “none of them would be able to _interrupt_ me or debate the necessity of my work with them. Ergo, you are not dead.”

“That is hardly a solid argument. Miracle elixir or not, the grave would hardly ever be enough to stop me from debating you.”

Despite the rebuttal, the way Ferdinand’s countenance had relaxed suggested he was satisfied with that point for the moment. He nodded to himself briefly, no doubt checking off a point on whatever mental checklist he made.

“...Can I turn into a bat?”

“ _That_ ranks second most important to you?”

“I do not recall telling you how I ordered these questions. That is very presumptuous of you.”

“...I _suppose_.”

As much as he was trying to be sensitive right now, Hubert could not help but roll his eyes.

“Well?”

“To my understanding, no. But you are certainly welcome to try.”

He couldn’t say if the sigh that came from the Prime Minister was one of relief or disappointment, but for the wellbeing of their empire, Hubert hoped it was the former.

“Alright then, onto the next. And if you call me vain for this, Hubert, I cannot be held responsible for what I do to you. But...what of my reflection?”

Smart of Ferdinand to warn him—Hubert had little doubt he would have called him such just on instinct. Instead, he reached into the inner pocket of his own coat, procuring the small pocket mirror he kept there. While Hubert didn’t care too much about appearances himself, he had long since learned the benefit of checking himself for stray specks of blood before interrupting meetings with Edelgard. With the right crowd, he didn’t want to seem unprofessional by leaving anything visible. Conversely, if he felt it were in Lady Edelgard’s best interest to end a meeting early, letting a few spots remain here and there usually did wonders in scaring off whatever disgraced nobles were currently clamoring for her attention.

He wordlessly handed the mirror to Ferdinand, who tentatively reached out to grab and open it. A slight relaxation of his shoulders at the sight of his own face. Perhaps Hubert could have just told him his reflection was unharmed, but he felt it would be more reassuring for him to see it himself. Ferdinand paused for just a moment, pulling up his lips to poke at the sharpened pair of fangs he now possessed. Seeming to realize it would take longer than a few seconds to come to terms with them, he nodded, before closing the mirror and handing it back.

Ferdinand’s hand lingered on the other side of the compact for longer than what would be considered normal; Hubert was about to question if he wanted to keep it before the hand dropped back to his side. Perhaps Ferdinand had just now noticed that he lacked the gloves he usually sported, but Hubert didn’t think he had been committing any large breach of privacy by removing them. It had felt silly to leave them on a sleeping man.

The other man picked at the edge of his sleeve for a moment, seemingly pondering over what to ask next. Hubert doubted he was short on ideas—Ferdinand rarely ever was—but picking through what was most important must be quite the task. Eventually he seemed to decide on one, though the frown on his face before he spoke was curious.

“While it is of course helpful, Hubert, it is impossible to not think of your knowledge on this subject as odd. ...Did _you_ make this ‘cure’?”

The question should not have hurt as much as it did. It was an obvious thing to ask, given the circumstances. He’d not given any reason to the contrary, really. But the implications behind it—he had thought Ferdinand trusted him more than that. Such an extensive understanding of these conditions could have only come from...previous subjects. Victims, if they were to avoid sugar coating it. Hubert’s work had never been the most humane, to be sure, but there were some lines he drew to differentiate himself from their enemies. To put anyone through what his Lady had been through, what they were fighting against—

He did not have time for these thoughts. Ferdinand was waiting.

“No, I did not.”

He waited for a reply to come, but there was nothing. Perhaps trying to determine if he were telling the truth?

“You mentioned you wanted to know more about where these myths came from. This is as good a lead in as any, so may I elaborate?”

A curt nod from Ferdinand.

“While I know I have not told you as many details as you would like, you are aware that much of my work involves disposing of Those Who Slither.”

It was not a question. He and Edelgard had spent many late nights discussing whether or not Ferdinand was ready to hear of their true enemies and what exactly it was he could know. When they had made the decision to bring him into their fold just over a year ago, they had been very clear on the importance of these matters. Ferdinand was not one to ever forget something as vital as this, even though matters of the Agarthans had only ever been brought to him on the rarest of occasions. 

“Some time ago, I discovered this ‘medicine’ in one of their lairs after clearing it out. While there were no other...recipients there, they had not managed to destroy the records of their experiments in time. From their age and references to experiments done in other labs, I gathered that they have either lost—or purposefully released—their test subjects into the public throughout various points in history. Some of their traits were accurately recorded by their victims, but there were never enough of those afflicted to truly prove they were real. From there, it is only natural to assume that facts and local legends mixed together to create what is generally known as a ‘vampire.’ I can’t tell you where the name comes from, though.”

There was continued silence as Ferdinand mulled this information over, his eyes closing momentarily as he thought. It was a regular habit of Ferdinand’s, as if the world around him distracted far too much from whatever mental equation he needed to solve. Hubert still wasn’t quite certain whether Ferdinand himself was aware of it.

“Hubert. Pardon the change of subject, but would you remind me what your favorite opera is?”

Hubert blinked, wondering if Ferdinand had perhaps briefly lost his mind under the current pressures. But the Prime Minister had opened his eyes once more and was staring at him with a determination that would hardly suit a mad man, although his tone had been light when asking the question. So what could he possibly—

Ah.

Hubert frowned, not seeing the point in this line of questioning, but responded with the answer they had predetermined a year ago.

“ _Canticum Ignis et Florum_.”

“And why is that, again?”

Hubert resisted the urge to pinch his temples at Ferdinand’s insistence. While he had suggested creating a second layer of security himself, it had been Ferdinand who had ultimately decided on the phrasing.

“...Because the leading diva reminds me of Lady Edelgard, most notably during her aria in the second act. The scarlet dress in particular.”

Ferdinand had originally insisted in far more descriptors of this made up aria, and at least three more sentences detailing his devotion to any Edelgard look alike, but under threat of Miasma had agreed to stop his teasing there.

The intensity in Ferdinand’s gaze weakened, and he nodded and leaned back into his chair again, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Hubert, on the other hand, found his irritation growing.

“Would you care to inform me _what, exactly,_ I did to warrant an identity confirmation?”

Ferdinand blinked, as if he were surprised to hear it needed an explanation.

“Hubert. I have awoken in a strange room having been...changed. You told me yourself that this is a result of experimentations done by Those Who Slither, and it is entirely possible an imposter could use some hint of the truth in order to gain my trust. Not to mention, as of yet I have seen _only_ you, and none of our other comrades. So it is possible they are not here at all, if this is some kind of trick. But you have passed, so I can safely discard that theory.”

“Is that all?”

It was a petty question. Hubert had told Ferdinand himself that he should not hesitate to use it if he had even the slightest of suspicions. But even all of that hardly seemed a reason to doubt him so easily.

“...If you must know. You are showing more...consideration—or are at least giving it your best effort—than you normally would towards me. I could not help but consider it out of character.”

Right. Of course. Goddess forbid Hubert show any thoughtfulness to a close friend who had nearly died, lest he be thought of as a face-changer. Did Ferdinand truly think him so cold-hearted? Everything about their conversation so far clearly seemed to indicate as much.

“Forgive me for acting so erratically, then.”

The tone of his voice did nothing to prove he was not as uncaring as Ferdinand apparently believed, but Hubert found he didn’t particularly mind that anymore. If he were going to fail so spectacularly at kindness anyways, then why even bother with the front?

“Hubert, you know I did not mean—”

“Save your breath. I do not need your platitudes, Ferdinand.”

Perhaps not the best choice of words, given the expression that flashed across the other man’s face. It hurt Hubert’s heart in an odd sort of way to see, but so had everything else that had transpired in this room. It would be in both their best interests for him to remove himself for the time being.

“I am sure you need time to yourself to consider your situation. I will have an attendant remain outside the door; you may relay any further questions to me through them. I will have someone bring you a meal when needed.”

Hubert had already stood up to leave, and while he could see Ferdinand pushing himself out of his chair to argue the sudden departure, the last sentence seemed to stop him in his tracks. Ah, had he not thought that far ahead? What little color still remained in Ferdinand’s face drained as gears clicked into place, and amber eyes darted towards the discarded waterskin Hubert had given him earlier. It would have been easy enough to explain it was merely cow’s blood—though Hubert could not truly say if that knowledge would have been a comfort—but the stinging in his chest insisted he remain silent.

“I would strongly suggest you stay here until I come to see you again—unless you’re planning to hunt something down to eat yourself.”

He was not particularly proud of the smirk that tugged at his lips, so he only hoped that he had turned away from Ferdinand before the other man saw it. As if that would make the words less cruel.

The door closed behind him before Ferdinand could utter any further protests, and though Hubert had heard the sound many times previously, he nearly winced as it slammed shut.

While a moment to gather his thoughts would have been nice, he could not afford to be seen staring blankly ahead by one of his own subordinates. He quickly relayed his instructions to the guard at the door, then began navigating the imperial hallways back to his main office.

He would have to update Lady Edelgard on Ferdinand’s status immediately. 

It was not going to be a pleasant conversation, but at least there was one thing he could count on for the rest of the day:

There was no way to do any worse than he already had. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hubert: I can't believe ferdinand thinks I'm mean. Ive been trying to be nice and he thinks I'm an Imposter. I can be Nice.  
> hubert, immediately: I am going to be Mean about this.
> 
> Oh boy, we're done with most of the exposition now which means we should probably start getting into some semblance of plot next. Take this with a grain of salt though, as the next chapter isn't quite planned out yet.
> 
> Wonderful thank you to [Adaire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlaeFatorum/pseuds/Adaire) as usual for betaing, and helping me with a Latin title for the opera so I didn't have to rely on Google Translate.
> 
> You can find me on twitter over at @cobaltcircuit!


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